


You'll Never Hurt Anyone Again

by MarikoFics



Series: You Died: A Compilation [2]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Dismemberment, F/M, Gore, Nail Gun Fun, Suicidal Thoughts, You Died, btd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarikoFics/pseuds/MarikoFics
Summary: From a series of BtD one-shots I'll be making. All different protagonists, all different endings. Sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes unstated. Sometimes things aren't exactly what they seem. The order in which they appear is not always the order they take place.





	You'll Never Hurt Anyone Again

_Accidents can happen.  
_  
It's what you've told yourself nearly your entire life.  
  
It's what you told yourself when your childhood friend didn't look both ways when crossing the street.  
  
It's what you told yourself when your beloved pet passed away in your home, despite you swearing to yourself and your parents that you'd all done everything right and took good care of it.  
  
_It's what you told yourself at your mother's funeral after she'd died in that car crash.  
_  
By the time you were an adult, you finally stopped telling yourself these lies.  
  
You finally made peace with this at your father's funeral after he fell from a high beam at his construction job.  
  
You weren't really sure what you'd done for this to happen. It all seemed utterly unfair. It was unfair to you, and it was unfair to everyone around you.  
  
You can't even stay in one place for too long. Neighbors disappeared. Someone fell down the apartment stairs the other day.  
  
You've tried killing yourself several times, too. It never works.  
  
Throwing yourself off the roof failed. Cutting yourself failed. A harrowing idea that's crossed your mind many times is that _you simply cannot die_.  
  
The only thing you understood is that no matter what you do, someone will suffer. You figured this out when the kind doctor in the hospital who patched you up never showed up for work again, and you didn't dare ask anyone where he went.  
  
You knew.  
  
_Death follows you like a greedy parasite._

\---

Everything that's ever happened to you in your life up to this moment has lead you to sitting in a strange, quiet bar far outside of your own neighborhood.  
  
Your favorite neighbor told you this morning that her daughter woke up with a terrible cough, the doctors think it's pneumonia.  
  
Maybe if you get far enough away, and never come back, the little girl will survive. She still had a chance. _As long as you were gone_.  
  
You took a bus as far as it would go, traveling the entire day. You're so tired.  
  
_As long as I don't stay too long, I can rest. Maybe I can curl up on a bench somewhere tonight._ You thought this to yourself, picking at the last of the bar food you'd bought. You look utterly miserable, and everyone around you can tell. They're smart enough to stay away.  
  
So you withdraw into your shell even more and concentrate on the food.  
  
Someone suddenly claps their hand on your back, startling you so badly you jump and let out a yelp.  
  
"Hey buddy, you okay over he-" You're both stunned by your outburst, and you push the man away so frantically you nearly tip the stool over.  
  
_Oh no, no no no_.  
  
He broke one of your rules. Don't touch anyone. _Never_ touch anyone.  
  
You're vaguely worried he's terribly offended by you pushing him away like a frightened animal, but for some reason this friendly-looking guy is alight with energy and has a wide smile on his face. He seems.. _.delighted? Delighted you're so jumpy? Nah..._  
  
To you, being touched is the ultimate death sentence. You don't want something bad to happen to a good person.  
  
"I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry - I didn't expect... ...I should..go." You scramble from the stool, knowing he's already in grave danger.  
  
"You okay? Didn't mean to startle you there bud, I just noticed you here alone, I've seen that look on your face before. Thought you might need someone to talk to-" He tries to stand in your way, but you duck past him.  
  
"S-Sorry! N-No time, I gotta go! Sorry!" You apologize over and over while retreating from the bar, pushing the door open before the kind man can say anymore. You didn't even want to learn his name. Sometimes, you wondered if that was part of what made it worse.  
  
You feel awful. That large, warm hand on your back was the first human comfort you've had in eons, and you realize what you've been missing out on for several years.  
  
Standing on the curb outside the bar, your eyes dart left and right, trying to figure out where to go. You would hitchhike, but that would cause the exact issues to others that you're trying to avoid.  
  
You lift your foot off the curb to walk across the road, but that's as far as you'll ever walk again.  
  
A strong hand clasps itself over your mouth, someone's arm is yanking your arms to your sides and you hear a rumbling voice in your ear, hissing in a german accent.  
  
"It's not nice to just run off in the middle of a conversation. What's gotten you so spooked?~"  
  
Your eyes go wide. You don't understand! _Who would do this sort of thing?_  
  
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, buddy. _Come on_." with a firm nudge, he starts dragging you toward a car that's parked away from some of the others. You're too stunned to fight him until he opens the trunk.  
  
_My god, I'm being abducted. He's insane. Not because it's illegal.  
Because he's going to be trapped somewhere with me.  
_  
These are your last thoughts before you feebly attempt to jerk him off of you, not wanting to get stuffed into a trunk. This somehow elicits an excited noise from your kidnapper, and you feel his large hand grab the back of your head - slamming it against the back of the car.  
  
Your struggle was his permission to do this the hard way.  
  
\---  
  
_"Ah, gods, no..."_  
  
You mumble to yourself, waking up in a dark room. Gently moving your sore head around, you start to notice it looks like a basement...an unpleasant faint smell in the air that you've smelled before, maybe in the distant past.  
  
The sound of heavy footsteps tromping down the stairs catches your attention, and you groan in pain when the lights suddenly come on. Squinting your eyes shut and cringing, you crack one lid open to glance at your captor.  
  
"You're awake! Sleep well? ...how's your head?" He cocks his head to the side, giving you a worried smile.  
  
_Why is he smiling? Why does he look so happy?_  
  
This is the most confused you've ever been in your entire life, and your entire life has been a rather confusing, complicated mystery so far.  
  
You open your mouth...but don't really say anything. You're not sure what to say. In fact, you end up looking like a dumb fish, gaping at your abductor...who looks less than pleased at your silence.  
  
Faster than your adjusting eyes can keep track of him, he's suddenly gripping your hair and yanking it back, causing you to stare at him.  
  
_Shit, that hurts!_ He's grabbing you right where you got hit, causing you to cry out from the throbbing in your skull.  
  
"How's. Your. Head?"  
  
"T-Terrible! I-It hurts! L-Let go, please!" You yank and writhe your hands so you can reach up and stop him, but this is the moment you become acutely aware you're tied to a pole behind your back.  
  
Thankfully, your captor lets go...taking a step back to where he'd been.  
  
"Oh, great! I was worried there for a second, buddy. Didn't want that sore head making you mute now, huh?" He chuckles, and you stare in response. _He's crazy_.  
  
"You were so spooked back in the bar...we didn't even get to exchange names. Name's Strade."  
  
He motions to himself, giving you an expectant look. This time, it's at least an easy answer.  
  
"M-Mallori." You stammer, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
" _Mallori_..what a nice name." He pleasantly hums, turning around to rummage in the cabinets nearby. You hated your name. It felt like an ill omen.  
  
Starting to feel weary of what he might be digging around for, you decide it would be best to distract him.  
  
"I...you have to let me go. Y-You don't understand...s-something bad might.. ...happ..." You trail off, mumbling the rest of your sentence. How could you possibly explain he's doomed himself? There was no way your new pal Strade would survive the week after everything he's done.  
  
_Unless..._  
  
Your eyes go wide when he pulls a power tool out from the drawer. _A nail gun_.  
  
"Something bad? Hmm...I'm not sure about that, buddy. I just wanted to have some fun with you, is all. I can't let you go until we're all done."  
  
Strade gives you a wry smile, slowly, teasingly loading up the gun in front of your eyes.  
  
"You need some water or something, Mallori? I figure you're still full from the bar."  
  
Yes, you were. And you wanted to throw it all up.  
  
"No...no..I..p-please, don't do this. P-Please, why would you..." You can't help it. Maybe it's the throbbing in your head, maybe it's just the situation, but he hasn't even done anything to you yet and you're crying.  
  
"I just want to share an intimate experience with you." He picks up the nail gun, leaning down closer to your face. "You seem so skittish...I think this is just about the best way to get to know someone that's shy, don't you?"  
  
Your wide eyes are trained on the nail gun, and he waves it around in front of your face.  
  
"Where do you want me to start, Mallori? An arm? Your legs? I'm giving you a choice."  
  
You let out a soft cry, squeezing your eyes shut tight and your feet scrape against the floor in a pathetic effort to back away from him.  
  
"Gonna clam up on me again?" Strade hisses, patience not one of his strong points.  
  
_"Please, please, no!"  
_  
It's not a real answer. He huffs out an exasperated sigh as if you're being a disobedient little kid.  
  
_BANG._  
  
Searing, white hot pain floods through you, coming from your ankle. You scream the loudest you've ever screamed, opening your eyes again to see a nail jutting out above your foot.  
  
"That's too bad, buddy. I was gonna let you choose one or two, but now I've gotta use it on _every...single...one_. Of your limbs."  
  
Strade licks his lower lip, and he's starting to blush. You numbly realize he's getting off to this, and he presses the nail gun to your other ankle.  
  
"No! STRADE NO!" You scream preemptively, kicking your leg any which way you can.  
  
The nail gun is sent to the floor with a clatter, but Strade merely gives you a coy look before leaning over to pick it back up again.  
  
"...We're going to need more in this leg, don't you think, _Mallori_?"  
  
All of your screams and sobbing are completely and utterly ignored as he fires off the nail gun.  
  
_BANG. BANG, BANG.  
_  
One in the ankle, one in your knee, and one in your thigh. Your bloody right ankle is now looking much better off than your left leg. Streams of blood are pouring from the nail-filled holes Strade's gifted you with.  
  
Your throat feels hoarse and you already begin to wonder if you can even scream anymore by the time you feel him pressing the gun to your shoulder. Feeling delirious, your head lulls to the side.  
  
"Please..please, only one..." You bargain with him, and his eyes light up.  
  
"Of course, liebling! After all, you've handled that so well so far! I'm impressed!" He happily chirps, and you're under the impression he's delighted that you're finally participating.  
  
_BANG._  
  
You whimper this time, knowing it was coming. The pain's starting to feel far-off.  
  
Strade frowns at this, gripping your nailed shoulder tightly - and you shriek when he rips the nail out.  
  
"Ah, there we go! Wondered if that one was defective. _Mmm...~_ " Tossing the nail behind him, he takes a moment to smear his hand on the fresh trail pouring from your wound.  
  
You feel bile rise in your throat when he licks his finger clean, his eyes positively gleaming at you.  
  
"Only one more." He coaxes, grabbing your other shoulder. This time, you know what to do.  
  
_BANG._  
  
You scream more out of obligation than anything, starting to realize what he wants.  
  
...What _he wants._  
  
In your terror-stricken mind flooded with pain, you suddenly realize what's happening here. You can't hurt Strade. He's here to hurt _you_.  
  
_Divine intervention._  
  
It's the only thing that makes sense. You look upon Strade in awe, seeing what you couldn't see before.  
  
An Angel of Death. He's what you've been praying for. _Release._  
  
You sob in relief, and Strade rustles his hand through your hair as he gets up to put the nail gun away.  
  
You had desperately hoped that you would die some day soon, but you selfishly wanted it to be painless.  
  
Of course it can't be painless, you wearily realize. You've let so many people around you die. _You deserve to be punished._  
  
Insanity gripping you in a choke hold, you feel upset to find Strade reaching for a medical kit.  
  
" _NO!_ " You bark out, and Strade's startled enough to stare over his shoulder.  
  
"....No? You don't want my help? After you did so well?"  
  
"Please, please no...! Just kill me, please! I don't need help! Don't heal it..." You sob desperately, not wanting this chance to die to slip through your fingers. Strade stares at you as if you have two heads, giving you a cautious smile.  
  
"Don't tell me I've broken you already, Mallori. We barely had time to have any fun. You've still got fight left in ya!" He holds the medical kit up in suggestion again, and you flinch.  
  
"NO! I...I need to die! _You don't understand, please, please..._ " You mumble hysterically, and a dark look crosses over Strade's face. You'd get the vague impression he's disappointed in you, but your crazed mind can't recognize anything else anymore.  
  
Shrugging his shoulders and letting out a sigh of resignation along with his smile, Strade puts the kit back on the counter and hums to himself, heading up the stairs.  
  
"NO! No, come back! Don't leave!" You beg, thrashing against the pole. The nails embedded in your skin cause you to cry out again from the startling pain of them jammed in your body.  
  
"No worries, liebling. I'll be only a moment - and you'll get what you so badly need."  
  
His words comfort you somewhat, and you shiver in place as you hear him walking around upstairs. What is he getting? What's taking so long?  
  
_A creepy feeling washes over you when you've realized your wounds aren't really bleeding much anymore._  
  
By the time Strade comes back, you're antsy and worried that you're going to survive this.  
  
Still humming to himself, Strade returns with a bandana over his face and a laptop under his arm. You watch him carefully, eagerly, worriedly. _What's he doing that for?_  
  
"Got a great show for everyone today. This one's still nice and lively." He glances over at you. You can no longer see his grin, but you know it's there.  
  
You clam up, realizing that you're being filmed. A red light is glaring at you from the laptop, and you stare back...dumbfounded.  
  
Why is ... why is your Angel filming you?  
_  
Why isn't he getting this over with?_  
  
By the time you've gotten out of your own head long enough to pay attention to him, Strade's set up a _...car battery._  
  
"LIGHT THEM UP LIKE CHRISTMAS"  
  
You see the laptop's chat box spam upwards. They're excited. So is Strade.  
  
You scream as all your muscles seize up at once, the metal clamps in Strade's gloved hands causing blinding pain in all your nailed limbs. _It hurts_ , it hurts everywhere, but it's unbearable in your limbs. Hilariously, the arm that's saved from the most pain is the one with the empty hole in it.  
  
Who are these people?  
  
You jerk your head to the side and you suddenly vomit up your bar food, though neither of you are surprised. It was bound to happen sooner or later.  
  
Your teeth are clattering as you notice the chat box is filling up again.

"THOSE LEGS ARE IN BAD SHAPE"  
"MAYBE JUST GET RID OF THEM? LOL"  
"AXE THEM A QUESTION"

Strade leans closer to your face, studying your expression. You look...heartbroken. He looks like he's as horny as a boy finding his first porno mag hidden under his parent's bed.  
  
"You won't be needing these anymore, liebling." He grips your legs, straightening them out. It hurts so much, you don't even try to yank them closer up to your body again.  
  
_Strade needs to make a clean cut, after all._  
  
\---  
  
Hours passed. You're free of everything.  
  
Your guilt. Your pain. Your legs.  
  
You lasted longer during mutilation than any of Strade's previous _buddies_. Even the crowd online was impressed _and confused_ how long it took to kill you. Too bad for him you were already so broken. He would have had so much fun with you if you weren't destined to seek out death.  
  
The last sobs he wrings from your body aren't for your own sake. They're not for the pain wracking your body. They're for the fact you realized somewhere in between the electrical shocks and the loss of your first leg and _Strade fucking you where your leg used to be_ that Strade wasn't your Angel.  
  
You two were exactly the same. Death follows you both like a parasite. Strade was simply a _willing_ accomplice.  
  
There was one less monster in this world. If life were more fair, you could have tried to take him down with you. You owed everyone that much.  
  
But even so, at the very end, you were thankful. You finally got to close your eyes and be free of worry.  
  
You'll never hurt anyone ever again.


End file.
